


Caught a Long Wind

by geneeste



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Olicity Big Bang, Olicity Fic Bang, Slow Burn, Space AU, Space Vigilantes, Team Arrow in Space!, Tommy Merlyn is Alive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-07 23:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5474630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geneeste/pseuds/geneeste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Oliver Queen needs a flight engineer and some better plans, his crew needs a break and a raise, and Felicity Smoak needs a job, a bath, and a place to belong (not necessarily in that order). They may all just get what they want, provided the universe doesn't intervene first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anybody Out There

**Author's Note:**

> Huge, giant, massive thanks to curvy-tam, who served as an excellent beta and sounding board, and without whom this would be a much crappier story (she also put up with long bouts of inactivity followed by ridiculous bursts of writing. She is a very patient person). You're awesome. Thanks also to geniewithwifi for being my cheerleader.
> 
> the-silverforked-sky made the wonderful artwork you see below! Thank you so much for your hard work on this (it’s the first artwork anyone has ever made for my work, so it’s doubly exciting for me).
> 
> A few last bits of business: this story is a multi-chapter fic which will be updated weekly on Sundays. I've estimated 25 chapters total for the fic, but I imagine that will change if I decide to post shorter/longer chapters, so please bear with me. Additional tag warnings will be posted as new chapters go up, and it's likely there will be a rating change at some point (I'll note it when there is). Lastly, there are other minor pairings that will pop up later in the story, and I'll note those as well.
> 
> Any and all remaining mistakes, inaccuracies, and silliness are mine. Title taken from Feist's song of the same name.

“Oliver, now would be a good time to _run away_ ,” Tommy bit out, focused on maneuvering the ship around the attacking vessel.

As another blow glanced off their port bow and jolted them backward, Oliver couldn’t help but agree. “Yeah, get us out of here.”

He thought about the small hauler they’d been trying to save, and quickly dismissed any plans to go back. If it hadn’t broken away by now, it didn’t stand a chance anyway.

Tommy had shut down their weapons and diverted all of their power to the engines, and managed to dive under the aft side of what could now only be considered a warship. He was pushing the engines hard to get a head start. Oliver’s ship was fast - it had to be - but the warship was terrifying in its speed.

“They’re in pursuit,” Laurel warned from over his shoulder.

The ship shuddered again, and they all suddenly pitched sideways. Oliver tensed even more as they noticeably slowed. “Was that an engine?”

Tommy nodded grimly. “Yep, starboard-side. We still have port engines and auxiliary, but if we lose another one we’re screwed.”

“Are we going to get boarded?” Lyla asked calmly, hanging half into the bridge from the corridor. Oliver appreciated her steadiness.

“It is a distinct possibility.” Tommy called over his shoulder, eyeing the quickly approaching warship.

Oliver touched his comms. “Sara and Lyla, cover the access hatches. Roy, you too.”

He didn’t have to twist to see Lyla leave, or wait for Sara and Roy to acknowledge the order. He knew they were already on their way.

He turned to Diggle, who had been sitting stoically at Oliver’s side, but who was now already unbuckling his restraints. “On my way to the engine room.”

Oliver activated his comms again as Diggle stumbled out. “Thea, stay in your quarters. I mean it.”

“ _Ollie-_ ”

“ _Stay,_ Thea.” He cut off any reply she may have made. The ship groaned with another close shot - what the hell kind of weapon was that? - and suddenly tablets, mugs, and other bits (along with the parts of Oliver’s body not already restrained) started to float.

“What the hell…” Tommy started, momentarily distracted.

“Ignore it,” he said, and the objects crashed back down loudly as the gravity generators kicked back in. He could only hope the others either weren’t affected by the malfunction, or had secured themselves somehow. “How far is Lark?”

“Close,” Tommy said, “But it’s a backwater, Oliver. If we land there we’re going to be stuck for weeks.”

“Is it a protected territory?” Oliver asked.

“It is,” Laurel said.

“Then set us down,” he snapped at Tommy.

“Fine, fine, no need to get testy,” Tommy muttered as things started to float again. Oliver had to dodge the empty mug he’d been drinking out of earlier. He tapped it and sent it into the bulkhead on the other side of the room, where it bounced off. It made for a surreal picture.

Laurel began contacting Lark’s authorities get permission for an urgent landing even before he could turn to ask. They were already entering the planet’s territorial space, and the Starling System Authority’s automated surveillance satellites could be seen turning to monitor their entry on screen.

“We’re okay to dock. And...the ship backed off,” Laurel said, sounding surprised. “I think we’re safe.”

Oliver’s limbs landed hard again, along with everything else that had been sailing around the room. Oliver felt some relief that the plan had forced the warship to retreat, but they still had to land in one piece.

“Are we going to make it?” With the other ship gone and the _Arrow_ out of range of the surveillance satellites, Tommy had returned the outer hull to its standard configuration, and Oliver could hear the ship’s paneling shrieking and grinding as moved back into place.

Tommy found an entry angle, and he gripped the controls hard as they started to shake. “I am...reasonably certain.” He grunted. Oliver could see beads of sweat trailing down his neck.

“Reasonably certain is not certain.”

“Oliver, shut up or I am going to crash us on purpose.”

Oliver smirked a little, now reasonably certain that they weren’t all going to die horribly as they glided unsteadily through the planet’s atmosphere. The feeling faded when his thoughts moved to bigger problems, like his heavily damaged ship, and the possibility that the paneling hadn’t resettled and its identity could be exposed when they landed. Or the fact that there was a new, very dangerous player operating in Starling System.

A player who had beaten them. 

* * *

“Oliver, it’s good to hear from you,” Walter said, looking at home behind his desk at Queen Consolidated headquarters. The picture on the screen was grainy, owing to the relatively poor communications infrastructure on the planet, but even so Oliver could see the crisp cleanliness of QC’s facilities in the background.

Oliver didn’t miss it. He’d still take his busted ship over the claustrophobia of a sterile office any day.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called sooner, business has been picking up around the outer planets,” Oliver said. Which wasn’t exactly a lie - there had been more work before their disastrous run-in with the warship.

“Yes, I have to admit that I’m surprised to hear you’re still on Lark - my impression from Thea is that it’s unusual for the _Arrow_ to settle for such a long period.”

“It was time for a break. We’re also looking into expanding our interests on the planet,” Oliver hedged. Seeing the opportunity to get to the real reason he called, Oliver sat forward. “Speaking of which, Walter, we’re considering some improvements for the ship, maybe taking on an engineer. I was hoping you would be able to recommend someone in the star system.”

Oliver and Diggle had tried on their own to find local mechanics who could do the work, with depressing results. They’d reasoned that giving separate teams of mechanics each a portion of the repairs would limit their exposure risk, but instead there had been an endless parade of under-qualified technicians giving overpriced quotes, and none that they had felt were trustworthy enough to allow even a small amount of access to the ship.

It had been two weeks, and every day on the ground brought lost revenue and compounded docking fees, and Oliver was getting desperate.

Movement from the screen brought Oliver back to the conversation, where Walter looked pleased. “Ah, business must be good then. That’s an excellent idea, Oliver - I’ll speak with our Applied Sciences division, see if they have anyone who would qualify. I can also think of a few promising candidates who might be near enough to you to come in for an interview.”

“Thank you, Walter. That would be a big help, I appreciate your taking the the time.”

“Of course, Oliver, I’m glad you reached out. I’ll gather a few preliminary profiles and have them to you within the hour. Give Thea my love.”

“I will,” Oliver moved to end the call, and then remembered something. “Oh, tell Mom that I got her message, and we’ll do our best to make it out to QC’s anniversary banquet, but Thea and I may not make it this year depending on our schedule.”

“A tragedy, I’m sure,” Walter replied wryly, knowing that such events rarely went smoothly when the Queen children were around. “Goodbye, Oliver.”

“Goodbye, Walter,” Oliver said through a grin that he didn’t have to force, and then closed out the call.

Oliver rose from his desk and moved into his bathroom for a shower. By the time he finished and stepped back into his room, a message from Walter was blinking in the corner of the interface screen. He could always count on Walter to be punctual.

He dressed, then sat down as he pressed the message to bring up the documents.

_Oliver,_

_As promised, I’ve attached the files for three candidates I think would be an asset to your team. Albert Schweiss has worked on Heron for our Interstellar Solutions branch for the last few cycles, and James Ford runs our Orbital Space Systems division out of Skua. Both men are highly-trained and productive engineers._

_However, I would suggest you start with Felicity Smoak, who is currently working for an engineworks there on Lark. Her work during her apprenticeship with QC was outstanding and resulted in launch system improvements that have been very lucrative for our company. I’ll send along more candidates when I hear from Applied Sciences._

_Best,_

_Walter_

He took a sip of long-cold coffee, and started skimming through the personnel files. A serious-looking man from his QC ID picture, Albert Schweiss had gone to a good school, earned respectable grades. QC had hired him straight out of his advanced training, and he’d been there ever since. He’d worked on whatever projects were assigned to him, and been promoted on schedule.

There was nothing wrong with the man’s file, but there was also nothing particularly impressive about it. Moreover, he certainly didn’t strike Oliver as a man who would be willing to step outside the law, or even skirt it.

As for James Ford, Oliver had thought the name sounded familiar, and looking at the profile he knew why. He recognized the sharp features and expensively-styled hair; although his face had changed with age, the self-satisfied smile of the boy Oliver had gone to boarding school with for a few years hadn’t.

Ford’s file was stuffed with recommendation letters from affluent and politically powerful families, but there were no real accomplishments to back them up. Ford had gone to the right university, interviewed with the right people, and ended up in a position befitting a person of his family’s stature. Oliver could only assume that Walter had included Ford because of their similar backgrounds, but that alone was enough for Oliver to rule him out as a candidate.

Felicity Smoak was another matter altogether. She’d been a young scholarship student to her prestigious technical school, and had excelled there, graduating years early near the top of her class with an advanced degree. Like Schweiss, she’d been recruited by QC immediately, but unlike Schweiss she had opted for an apprenticeship with QC’s Applied Sciences division that had been somewhat beneath her credentials. Still, her evaluations were littered with praise from her supervisors and examples of the projects she’d developed on her own.

Strangely, Walter himself had taken over her apprenticeship two years in, although it wasn’t clear why or what exactly she’d been working on. Walter had included his notes on her final year, brief though they were - he ranked her highly against her peers, complimented her critical thinking, only lightly criticized a resistance to authority. And most puzzling, she hadn’t stayed on with QC after her apprenticeship ended, despite multiple offers.

Oliver sat back in his chair, finding himself drawn to her picture while he considered her. Long dark hair framed her face, and she wore glasses that were old-fashioned but seemed to suit her. She was certainly pretty (not that Oliver noticed), but it was her smile that made him linger; it was bright and unreserved, and he was surprised at the urge to smile in response.

Compared to Walter’s other candidates, Felicity Smoak stood out as an aberration, and that made her interesting. Wanting to dig a little deeper, he typed her name into the simple program Diggle used to investigate potential clients, and found...not a lot of information.

She’d been born and raised on New Vegas to a single mother, according to her birth certificate and school records (if there had been a father listed, it was either lost to time or removed from the electronic record). After QC, there were large gaps in her work and living history, until she had arrived on Lark two months ago. She currently worked at a small shop not far from the shipyard.

If she was a client that Diggle was vetting, his second would say that her background had been scrubbed. Most people’s entire lives could be discovered on the network - leases, medical records, transportation tickets, contacts with law enforcement, little details that became permanently discoverable for those who knew where to look.

Not so for Felicity Smoak. Which meant that she had either hired someone to very illegally clean her history from interstellar databases, or had the know-how to do it herself (given her obvious technical skill, he was inclined to think it was the latter). That suggested a flexible moral code. It also suggested that there was something in her history that needed to be erased.

Oliver reviewed the facts in his head: First, Walter obviously thought highly of her, highly enough to push her as the best person for the job. He trusted Walter, even as he had to wonder what it was that he’d had Felicity working on those two years.

Secondly, Felicity was clearly qualified. She was also clearly hiding something. He had no way of knowing the nature of her secrets, or what they would mean for the crew if she joined them. On the other hand, Oliver wasn’t exactly in a position to judge anyone for keeping secrets. And if she had reason to obscure her own past and present, she might be more inclined to leave his alone.

Oliver was a big fan of mutually assured destruction.

So he would continue to dig for insurance through his own channels, but it also occurred to him that she might be the ideal mechanic/flight engineer for them. She was accustomed to doing her work and then leaving, and it was likely that she was motivated to mind her own business. And if she didn’t, Oliver was confident that he and Diggle could handle her. They would give her a confidential contract, and then drop her on a nice planet when the work was complete.

It was a great plan, and he was sure that Diggle would agree.

* * *

“Are you sure about this, Oliver?” Diggle asked as they dodged through the throng of people in the alleys between massive hangars.

 It was oppressively hot – the smooth ground only reflected the light from the suns, making the sea of people bumping into each other all the more unpleasant. Dust had been kicked up by the traffic, and when not coating everyone and everything in sight, it hung in the air like fog and made Oliver feel like he was constantly on the verge of a cough.

 They had discussed bringing Felicity on early that morning, and Diggle had not been as enthusiastic about the plan as Oliver anticipated. He’d insisted on doing his own searches on the network and hadn’t found anything new on Felicity, and Oliver knew that made Diggle nervous. He’d deferred to Oliver’s choice, but he thought Diggle was just reserving the right to say ‘I told you so’ later.

“She came highly recommended. Walter said she was the best mechanic to ever come through QC,” he said, although it was a rehash of their earlier conversation.

 Diggle huffed. “I’m not sure we should be taking advice from anyone at QC.”

 Oliver threw him a look over his shoulder. “It’s Walter. There’s nothing to worry about.”

 Oliver heard the “if you say so,” but he chose to ignore it.

 It was a relief when they finally made it to the right hangar, although it wasn’t much cooler inside. It wasn’t a QC shop, and that was clear immediately. Unlike the factories of his family’s company, there were no air scrubbers or air conditioners, just aging and loud industrial filters struggling to keep up with the desert being tracked inside.

 The place was grimy and humid, and too dark for a repair shop, even if they were only working on spare parts and auxiliary engines for intraorbit shuttles. It was swarming with grimier men and machinery, resembling chaos more than a business.

 Diggle came up beside him, stepping close to avoid a mechanic pushing a welding bot past them. His disapproval was obvious. “Oliver, if she’s so good, why is she working here?”

 “Maybe,” he said, looking around for someone to flag down for information before turning to Diggle for a moment, “she just needs a better offer.”

 Diggle rolled his eyes, but Oliver wasn’t paying attention. Because not thirty feet from them, rolling out from under a suspended turbine engine, was a blonde woman in a bright purple jumpsuit, wearing goggles and some kind of bulky pink hearing protection.

 On a hunch, Oliver started forward, confident that Diggle would follow. As he walked he saw the woman pick a tool out of a metal box sitting next to her, and roll back under the engine.

 Standing in front of the engine, he could see her legs and hips, but the rest of her was hidden by a metal panel hanging down. He stooped to the side a bit, trying to catch a glimpse of her face.

“Excuse me, are you Felicity Smoak?”

She didn’t answer, so he nudged her boot gently with his own to get her attention. Immediately he heard a clatter, then a colorful swear involving wrenches and dark places, and she was rolling quickly out from under the engine.

“Ray, I swear to god, if you touch me even one more time with your”- and then she cleared the last of the metal panel and stopped so abruptly that she nearly threw herself off of the cart. “-Oh.”

She pulled off her goggles, and Oliver smiled when he finally got a good look at her. Her hair was different from her picture, but she was definitely the right woman. “Hi, I'm Oliver Queen.”

“You really are.” She said, voice overly loud, and she winced as she tore off the ear protection she was wearing. Oliver could faintly hear some kind of music before they clattered to the floor.

She was still staring at him, lying on the cart with her legs bent as if she were about to launch herself across the room at the first suspicious movement from Oliver.

Not knowing what else to say, and trying not to grin, Oliver tried again. “Are you Felicity Smoak?”

She opened her mouth a few times, trying and failing to get words to form. “No, no. Maybe? Why. Why?”

“Because I'm looking for someone to fix my ship, and I've been told she's the woman to help me.”

He was trying to be both charming and non-threatening, but it had been a while since he'd tried for that particular combination, and he wasn’t sure that she was buying it. The shrewd look in her blue eyes had him leaning toward ‘no.’

So he dropped the charm in favor of non-threatening. “Walter Steele recommended her to me personally, so I'm really hoping she's available.”

With that, Oliver saw some of the tension leave her body, and a bit of warmth fill her gaze. She sat up slowly on the cart, careful of its shaky wheels. “Then I’m your girl. Not your girl-girl, ‘cause we’ve just met- I mean, I’m Felicity Smoak.”

That last bit was said more to the ceiling than to Oliver, which made him think it was some kind of tactic she used to reel herself in. He couldn’t help the smile that rose at that. “It’s nice to meet you. This is my first officer, John Diggle.”

She looked behind Oliver to Diggle, and then back to him, gaze assessing. “When you say ‘yours,’ do you mean you run a ship, or you own the ship?”

The question felt like a non-sequitur, but Oliver knew it wasn’t. “I own it. The _Arrow_ is mine and its crew works for me.”

She nodded and beamed at him like he had just passed some kind of difficult test instead of just answering a question. “Great, I’m available.”

At that, she scooped up her hearing protection, deposited it around her neck, and hopped off the cart.

She started to walk past them when Diggle spoke up, sounding baffled. “Wait, don’t you want to know about the job?”

She stopped and turned slightly. “Okay. Are you going to pay me?”

Oliver nodded. He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or alarmed at how easily this was going.  “Of course.”

“Will I get my own bunk?”

“Yes,” Oliver replied.

She shrugged. “Then I’m good to go. Just let me go tell my supervisor.”

Oliver avoided looking at Diggle while Felicity went to break the news to the foreman, not wanting to see the man’s skepticism. He had a good plan. So what if she was a bit quirky?

It would be fine. They could handle her.

When she came back, she was walking quickly and looking over her shoulder. “Let’s go,” she said, clearing her throat uncomfortably. The foreman, a tall man with dark hair, had come out of his office and was glaring at them.

“Everything all right there?” Diggle asked mildly, following her line of sight briefly before they headed out into the harsh sunlight.

“It is now,” Felicity said through a tight smile. “I need to grab some things from the boarding house, it shouldn’t take long.”

Oliver swept an arm out in front of them. “Lead the way.”

* * *

Felicity had been true to her word; they had spent maybe ten minutes in the lobby of a hectic, run-down boarding facility not far from the hangar she’d been working in. The place was dark, had low ceilings, and the red paint was worn away in places to reveal a sickly looking green underneath. A bored-looking woman sat a table in the corner playing cards with herself, ignoring the people who came and went. All in all, Oliver was beginning to understand Felicity’s lack of attachment to the place.

When she returned, it was with an over-large duffle bag over her shoulder and a clean face, although she hadn’t changed from the grease-streaked purple overalls. The glasses he’d seen in her QC picture had reappeared, and he felt oddly happy that she still wore them.

She handed them flimsy face masks, meant to help protect against the atmosphere outside. Her mouth quirked at the sour look on the men’s faces. “It’s better than catching dusty lung.”

So Oliver found himself sweating uncomfortably against the silky material of the mask as they trekked back through town (although he had to admit - if only to himself - that he was much less winded this time around).

She’d refused help with the heavy-looking duffle bag, so by the time they reached the shipyard again Felicity was lagging a bit. Oliver and Diggle hit the observation deck first, and there, in all it’s green glory, was the _Arrow_.

He felt the familiar swell of emotion in chest at the sight - the pull of the ship’s promise, and knowing that it was his, that he commanded his own home. It was as heady as the first day he’d laid eyes on it.

Felicity stepped up between him and Diggle, and he felt her gasp at the sight below. It was another thing that he found oddly gratifying about her, and he had to shake his head at himself.

“Is that your ship?” She breathed, pointing at the sleek vessel positioned on it’s stabilizers while it was undergoing repairs.

“That’s it,” Oliver confirmed proudly. Even on it’s belly, the _Arrow_ looked intimidating; it was all severe edges, with it’s nose pointing sharply and gradually expanding outward to wide, thick wings. The aft engines grew out from the wings like fletchings, threatening speed and power. Forward to aft, the ship gave the impression of being compact, but anyone who had been inside it knew better.

Side-eyeing him, Felicity shifted on her feet. “What was it that you said you do again?”

He hadn’t said, but he wasn’t going to point that out. “Shipping and cargo-hauling, mostly. Some transportation as jobs arise.”

She hummed noncommittally in answer, and he figured it was a good sign that she didn’t inquire further.

Eager to get out from under the brutal suns, Oliver led them over to the industrial lift that would take them down to the surface of the yard. The ride was quick, and soon they were at the security office where they picked up temporary credentials so that Felicity could come and go through yard checkpoints.

Finally (and mercifully, as far as Oliver was concerned), the three stood under the _Arrow_. It was nice to be shaded by the ship’s expansive wings, but Oliver wanted to get inside, introduce the new engineer to the ship he loved. If that involved showing off a little, well, that was just a nice bonus.

He reached up and drew a pattern on a section of the hull, and a narrow ladder descended in front of them, just under the nose of the ship. The positive pressure of the ship’s internal atmosphere forced air into and around them, and Oliver couldn't resist taking a deep breath of the cool breeze before he started up the ladder.

The three of them made it into the small little access room, which had storage on three sides, and a bench and two EVA suits on the fourth. “There’s another access room sternside, opening to above the ship, and the loading bay doors underneath. I’ll get you the specs so you can familiarize yourself with the layout and networks,” Oliver said, pulling off his mask.

“Great. I’ll also need a list of repairs that are ongoing and what’s already been done, as well as any new equipment that’s being installed,” Felicity said, putting her heavy bag down on the floor with a relieved sigh and freeing her own face. “If you’ll point me to the main engine room, I’ll start feeling out your system.”

“I don’t know, I think we should get to know each other first,” Oliver said, amused at the reddening of her cheeks. Behind Felicity, Diggle lifted his eyes to the ceiling at Oliver’s flirting.

She gave a slight, embarrassed shake of her head. “Sorry, I just meant-”

Oliver held up a hand. “It’s fine. Let’s get you to your quarters first, and then Diggle can walk you through everything.”

“He’s not going to need to walk me through it, isn’t that why you hired me?” She shot back cockily.

“Fair enough, but Diggle’s going to accompany you for a while until we’re sure you’re comfortable with the ship, and to help you with anything you might need.” _And keep an eye on you_ , Oliver thought.

There was a beat where Oliver thought she was going to refuse, before she turned around to throw a smile at Diggle. “Okay!” she said a little too brightly, and then turned back around to Oliver. “Lead the way,” she said theatrically, parroting his words back at him.

Oliver pressed his lips together, trying not to react to her antics.

Diggle leaned down and picked up her duffel bag, and Felicity bristled. “I can get-” she started to say, before Diggle leveled a look at her.

“I don’t mind. It’s heavier than it looks, what is in this thing?” He asked as he nudged her to follow Oliver into the corridor.

“My life,” she replied, suddenly quiet. “So please be careful with it.”

As they moved, Oliver thought about the tightrope he was walking. Reading her from a file was one thing, but having actually met her, he knew they were going to have to be more careful with her than he had originally thought. Briefly - very briefly - Oliver wondered if maybe he should rethink his plan and contract someone a little more slow-witted.

_Too late now._


	2. Space Oddity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity gets to know the ship, the crew, and Oliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! This became a two-week update, and I apologize for that. Work, children, the holidays, and illness conspired to delay this chapter, but I will do my best to keep to the weekly-on-Sunday schedule from here on out.
> 
> Huge thanks to curvy-tam again for betaing - I so appreciate your thoughts and your sharp eye! I hope you all enjoy. (And yes, the chapter title is a song from David Bowie. Expect more of that.)

Felicity tried not to show it, but her new quarters were making her giddy. It wasn’t exactly a big room - enough for single bed in the corner, a small desk attached to bulkhead just to the side of the bed, and a wardrobe - but it had it’s own little bathroom, and it was so clean. There was enough floorspace to stretch out with her electronics, or to exercise (although, honestly, she probably wasn’t going to be doing a lot of that).

Best of all, it was all hers. She wasn’t paying an absurd amount of money every week to stay in a room not much bigger than this with two other grouchy, smelly people. She didn’t have to share a communal shower (she shuddered just to remember that). She reveled in the quiet of the space, how she could relax and be alone with her thoughts.

She started taking the essentials out of her bag - experience had long ago taught her not to unpack everything, that she should always be ready to leave at a moment’s notice - but she was comfortable putting away her toiletries and having her tablet and headphones at the ready. If she was feeling really optimistic later, she might even organize an underwear drawer.

She went into the bathroom to freshen up a bit - wetting a washcloth she found folded neatly with a set of towels on a rack next to the small shower, she ran it over her face and neck to get rid of at least some of the grime and sweat from the outside, then readjusted her ponytail. She’d decided to leave her overalls on; no use changing into clean clothes when she was likely to be outside sweating again before the day was through.

Feeling a bit more comfortable, she grabbed her tablet and sat down on the floor against the side of her bed (not wanting to dirty the neatly-made linens), and pulled up her usual searches; there were no mentions of any of the key words she monitored, so she switched to the news of the day and the gossip sites for the system.

She had always been naturally wary of the tabloids, but she’d found that occasionally the fringe agencies picked up stories that the corporate-controlled networks missed (or intentionally ignored). Some of the sites speculated about shady business dealings on the main planets, new crime bosses taking over territory in the outer system, and reports of a mysterious ship that had been patrolling the Starling System, disrupting pirating and smuggling in areas the SSA should have been regulating.

Still, most of it was as frivolous as gossip tended to be. It wasn’t surprising to see that her new client’s family featured in some of it, despite an obvious effort on the Queen family’s part to avoid the limelight since Oliver’s return from the dead. He and his father had gone missing before she had joined QC, and he had been rescued after she left, so they had never crossed paths. She’d been too busy trying to survive herself to pay much attention to the scion’s return, and most of what she knew of the man had come from what little Walter had shared and what she’d read in the tabloids.

But the brief impression Oliver had made as a businessman and captain when they met earlier did not seem to match the thoughtless playboy portrait the rags tried to sell of him. She put the two versions together in her mind based on what she knew of him, and save a brief moment in the hangar when he had uncomfortably tried to sell her on the job, they didn’t fit.

She’d just started to dig into Oliver’s background on her tablet when a chime from the door panel indicated that someone was waiting outside. She hastily exited out of the programs, then rose to answer it.

When the doors slid open, Felicity was surprised to find a pretty brunette woman waiting in the corridor. The brunette smiled and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Laurel Lance. I’m the ship’s legal advocate, I have your contract. May I come in?”

Felicity shook her hand briefly, then waved Laurel through. “Sure.”

The name niggled at the back of Felicity’s mind; she made a mental note to look it up later.

Laurel stepped in, and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as the doors slid closed behind her. “It’s a pretty simple document, it covers the scope of the work, your compensation package, and the confidentiality agreement.”

Felicity took the tablet Laurel held out. “Thanks. Do you mind if I read through this?”

Laurel shook her head readily. “Not at all, take your time.”

Felicity sat on the edge of her bed, while Laurel took a seat at Felicity’s desk. A few moments of silence passed as Felicity read.

“So, are you settling in okay?” Laurel asked, looking around at the sparse room and Felicity’s unpacked bag.

“Mostly. I tend to travel light, so there’s not much to put away.” Felicity continued to scroll through the contract, happy to see that it was as straightforward as Laurel had said, very similar to other contracts she’d taken on (and it was downright elementary compared to QC’s legal documents). The confidentiality agreement was uncharacteristically ironclad for a job of this type, but that was to be expected from a captain who had been hounded by the press for most of his life.

She looked up from the document. “I could have come to you, you didn’t have to meet me here.”

“My quarters are just down the hall, it’s not far,” Laurel said, then lifted a shoulder. “Plus, it was a nice excuse to meet you, we don’t often get new crew. That is, if that works for you,” she added, nodding at the tablet in Felicity’s hand.

Felicity hadn’t had high expectations (she’d really only wanted a little money and passage off the planet), but the pay was much better than she hoped, and she couldn’t deny the perks of the living space. She grinned. “It does.”

After she had provided her thumbprint for the needed areas, Laurel took the tablet back. “Great. I’ll get you access to our network and systems, and the schematics and ship designs from Oliver.”

Felicity rose to show her out, but Laurel paused at the hatch. “I’m going to the mess for dinner - you can meet everyone there, and then you can get started wherever you like.”

Felicity shrugged. “Now’s as good a time as any.” She picked up her own tablet  and her headphones, looped them around her neck, and followed Laurel out of her room and down the corridor.

“How many crew are there?” Felicity asked as they rounded a corner.

“Eight in all, including me. You met Oliver and Diggle. Thea, Oliver’s sister, is our logistics officer, so she’s a good person to see if you need any supplies.”

They took another turn, and Felicity tried to keep track of where they were going through the corridors as Laurel talked. “Lyla is security under Diggle along with my sister”-

Felicity stopped in her tracks, abruptly remembering where she had heard the name Lance before. “Your sister, Sara Lance. Who was with Oliver when his father’s ship blew up.”

It was speculated in the rags that Sara had sneaked away with Oliver, who had been in a relationship with Laurel at the time, and it was news when Sara had been rescued with Oliver from the poorly terraformed and abandoned dwarf planet they’d been stranded on. Felicity had read about the scandal in passing much later - the tabloids still pulled the story out when they needed a boost in sales - but the Lance sisters seemed to have disappeared since it all happened.

Felicity was honestly shocked to find out that this is where they went.

Laurel had stopped a few paces ahead of her, and it was like a wall came down behind her eyes, and her shoulders went back. “Yeah. That’s right. Obviously you’ve heard of us.”

Felicity winced. “I’m sorry, I was just surprised. It’s really none of my business.”

“Definitely not,” Laurel replied, in a hard tone, and Felicity struggled not to flinch again, ashamed of herself for bringing it up.

Laurel looked away for a few long beats, until her posture visibly deflated. When Laurel turned back toward Felicity, her expression was softer, even if it was still a little reserved.

Laurel moved back to stand in front of Felicity, and seemed to struggle with what to say. “Look,” she started, and then sighed. “We were all really young. It’s done. We’re family.”

“I understand,” Felicity said gently.

“We really don’t like to talk about it,” Laurel said, almost wryly this time.

Felicity held up her hands. “Say no more. Talk about what?”

The slightest smile curved one side of Laurel’s mouth; not much, but enough to reassure Felicity that she hadn’t just made things between herself and one of her brand new shipmates terribly awkward for the duration of her stay here.

They restarted their trek, and Felicity tried to find something to fill the silence. “So there’s you, the captain, his sister, Diggle and the security team. That’s six. Who are the other two?”

“Tommy Merlyn is our pilot,” her voice warmed considerably with his mention. “You’ll probably end up working with him quite a bit once we get off the ground again.”

“I look forward to it,” Felicity replied as they drew up to an open hatch. It looked to be the mess area, and the noise from inside told her that everyone had already arrived.

The mess was a large, warm space, with a long table and many chairs and a bench bolted to the bulkhead on the long side of the room. The galley entrance was in the corner, and she could smell something delicious wafting in through the doorway.

The conversation died down when they stepped inside, and Felicity fought the urge to fidget at the feeling of the group’s eyes on her.

Laurel took pity and introduced her. “Everyone, this is Felicity Smoak, our new mechanic and temporary flight engineer.”

Felicity waved awkwardly at the people sitting around the table, and barely resisted the urge to facepalm at the gesture, instead shoving her hands behind her back.

Laurel then went through the group, putting faces to the names she’d already given on the way over. Oliver sat at the head of the table, and next to him on either side were Diggle and Tommy. Lyla was close to Diggle’s right - was there some leaning going on there? - and Thea sat a chair down from her.

Laurel patted the shoulder of a young-looking man sitting next to Thea. “Oh, and this is Roy, our eighth. He’s our cabin boy,” she said cheekily before going around the table and taking her own chair by Tommy.

Roy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.” He looked up at Felicity. “I do all the heavy lifting.”

“Yeah, he does,” Thea said under her breath, prompting a few snickers from around the table.

Oliver to glared at Thea and cleared his throat loudly. Felicity covered her own smile by ducking her head and taking a hasty seat at the table. The sight of fluffy-looking rolls on serving dishes in the middle of the table coupled with the smell of the soup had her stomach rumbling loudly.

Oliver smirked. It made his eyes crinkle attractively at the corners (not that she noticed). “Hungry?”

She reddened a bit. “No, I'm good, I'll just”-

“Eat.” A blonde woman Felicity recognized as Sara cut her off by setting a steaming bowl of the beef stew down right in front of her. Felicity didn't quite yelp at her sudden appearance, but it was a near thing.

“Okay,” Felicity said timidly, eyeing the other woman as she sat at the opposite end of the table and propped her boots up on it. She started to tear off bits of a roll, throwing them up in the air to catch with her mouth (which she was surprisingly good at).

Felicity looked around to see if anyone else seemed to think it was odd, but no one paid Sara any attention, so Felicity just picked up her spoon and dug into her food.

Introductions out of the way, the others started stirring - getting their own food, passing plates of bread around, clearing away already-used dishes. Laurel grabbed a passing roll and dipped it into the bowl in front of her, half of her attention on the tablet next to her plate.

“Felicity and I worked out her paperwork, so I’m getting her into the systems she needs for the ship,” she said to Oliver. Then she looked up at Felicity. “I double as communications. You’ll see a lot of that around here.”

“Indeed,” said Tommy joked. “Thea, for instance, is our logistics guru and resident fashion police,” Thea stuck her tongue out at him at that, “while I am our incredibly talented pilot and goodwill ambassador.”

“Yeah, bringing goodwill to strangers in bars and virtual suites everywhere,” Diggle said around a mouthful of stew.

“Business opportunities, every one of them,” Tommy replied, winking at Felicity. “Someone’s got to look out for our bottom line.”

“Somehow I don’t think it’s _our_ bottom line you’re looking at,” Lyla shot back, and Laurel snorted.

Tommy frowned at Laurel. “Betrayed, utterly betrayed,” he said, but in a good-natured way, and Laurel just shook her head with a smile.

The ribbing continued while Felicity ate and enjoyed the easy flow of the conversation around her. From what she could tell, Diggle had a big-brother role within the group, reining them in when they got too far out of bounds. Lyla had a graceful, commanding presence, able to jump in with her quick wit to put someone in their place, usually Tommy or Diggle (whom she called Johnny - _definitely a story there_ , Felicity thought).

Tommy appeared amused by everything, ready with a quip and particularly interested in getting a rise out of Laurel. Roy and Thea interjected occasionally, but seemed content in their own little atmosphere, exchanging looks and an unspoken language in reaction to the others.

Sara stayed silent for the most part, but she wasn’t separate from the crew; she would huff a laugh here and there, or chuck a piece of bread at her sister when she wanted Laurel’s attention. Mostly she just came across as quiet and cheerful.

Moving away from watching Sara, she lifted her gaze to rest of the group, and felt a surprising buzz when her eyes collided with Oliver’s across the table. His eyes were incredibly blue and almost piercing; it made her wonder what he saw in hers. She had the feeling that he had been observing her just as she had been the others, and her whole body seemed to warm under his attention, the noise from the room receding as they searched each other’s faces.

Thea spoke her name, and she was startled out of the moment. “Where do you think you’ll get started?” Felicity wondered if there was part of a conversation that she had missed, since everyone seemed to be waiting for her answer.

She had to clear her throat once to buy time while she looked back at Oliver, but he was eating his food with a single-mindedness that was impressive. “Um, outside, I think. I saw that new panels were being installed on the outer hull on our way in, so that’s where I should be for now.”

_Don’t go there, Felicity. Get it together._

Thea was watching her as if she knew what Felicity was thinking, which just made the blush in her cheeks worse. She scooped the last of her soup out of her bowl, determined to get out and away from her unexpected reaction to her new boss (not to mention his hawk-eyed sister) as soon as possible.

“Are you sure you don’t want to start inside? Plenty of work to do here. You know, where you won’t have to worry about spontaneous combustion,” Tommy asked.

Felicity lifted a shoulder. “It’ll be dark soon, and I imagine the bots have nearly finished. It’s just easier to find weaknesses and problems before they’re totally covered up,” she turned to Diggle. “If you don’t mind escorting me out there?”

Diggle shared a look with Oliver, and then finished the last of his own meal before standing from the table. “Not at all.”

“Great. It was nice meeting all of you,” she said to group awkwardly, and then made a strategic retreat back out into the sun.

 

* * *

 

Felicity tightened her ponytail, and then attached her safety line to the next grip on top of the ship. She’d slathered powerful sunblock across all of the exposed parts of her body (Diggle had insisted on it before he’d led her outside), but it had done nothing to relieve the heat. Sweat was trailing out of her hair, around her headphones and down her face and neck, leaving her damp and uncomfortable. She wiped fingers under her glasses and face mask, smearing sweat and dust around.

She’d been outside for over an hour, and was just starting to lose her light, but she’d been able to direct the bots to install most of the remaining heat-resistant panels onto various sections of the hull. Each large tile was comprised of hundreds of small, triangular cells that shimmered darkly at every angle, and the tiles themselves were thicker than most of the thermal shielding she had worked with in the past. It was clearly state-of-the-art technology, which wasn’t that unusual given the vast resources Oliver had access to from Queen Consolidated.

It had also given her time to familiarize herself more with the ship, which had yielded some strange insights into the damage that had grounded it. There was residue of some sort of scorching where the midhull was still exposed; it wasn’t structural, so she wasn’t concerned about its integrity, but the soot pattern was unusual. It could indicate re-entry damage, but that would have required the paneling to have been compromised in random sections of the hull.

Only a few things could have damaged such an advanced thermal protection system. A collision would do it, but in Felicity’s experience that would have resulted in more severe and uniform damage. Weapons fire could have also done it - an unlikely but possible cause, given the state of security in the outer system - but that too would have likely caused more explosive harm than the evidence she had seen on the midhull.

She was starting to feel as though there was a puzzle here to be solved, and she was missing several important pieces. That in and of itself didn’t make sense - she was just here to fix a ship, not to solve a mystery. Right?

She’d just finished directing a bot’s placement of the last heat shielding panel when she heard Diggle’s voice over the communications earbud he’d had her tuck into her ear. “Felicity.”

She turned, deciding to let the bot do the rest of the balancing and bolting. She’d double-check the leveling herself using the ship’s internal systems later. Facing Diggle, she pulled off her headphones, which had been entertaining her with Old Earth music while she worked.

He tossed her a canteen of water. “About done?”

She thanked him and gulped down the cool liquid greedily, wiping her chin with her forearm and pulling her mask back into place. “I think so. It looks like most of the work here was done before you hired me.”

He acknowledged that with tilt of his head. “Believe it or not, this was the easy part. It’s in our girls’ guts that you have your work cut out for you.”

“Fair enough.” She untethered herself from the hull and started winding the rope through a loop in her belt. She tucked her tablet into her overalls and started walking back to the access hatch. “Can I ask you a question?”

He eyed her steadily, then nodded.

“What happened to the ship?”

He hesitated at that - he recovered quickly, but she saw it. “It can be a tough business out here. We carry to almost any planet, and any freight is vulnerable to pirating, especially the high end goods we specialize in. We had a run in with a crew that meant to hijack our cargo and probably sell it on the unprotected planets.”

She mulled over that for a minute. “Did they? Hijack you, I mean.”

Diggle gave a tight smile she didn’t quite understand. “No, although they might as well have. Oliver knows when to cover our asses. He took us into protected SSA space betting that the pirates wouldn’t want to risk getting caught in a patrol, and it worked. We were lucky.”

“Why do you say they may as well have taken the goods?” Felicity asked.

Diggle grimaced, although she wasn’t sure if it was because of the suns overhead or her question. “We lost most of that commission, and we had to pay another transport to have the cargo transferred so that it would make it’s destination on time. We lost money on that job, and we lose money every day we’re on this planet.”

They reached the hatch, and Diggle gestured for her to climb down first. She descended a few rungs before pausing to look up at him. “Mr. Diggle, I know you don’t know me. I get the feeling you were a little…reluctant to take me on. But I’m very good at my job, and I promise you I’ll do my best to get you back to work as soon as I can.”

The tenseness that had come over him earlier faded somewhat, and when he spoke his eyes were kind. “Call me Diggle, or Dig. You’re crew now.”

She grinned at him and then went down into the welcoming cool of the ship.

 

* * *

 

She went straight to her bathroom after Diggle led her back to her room, depositing her electronics on the desk on the way. Looking forward to a private shower and finally washing off all of the sweat and grime she’d accumulated, she stripped down, throwing her clothes into a corner and reminding herself to figure out where the ship’s laundry was located later.

She actually groaned when she stepped into the enclosure; the cool spray beating down on her shoulders felt heavenly, and she was incredibly grateful that the water recycling system appeared to be as robust as everything else on the ship.

She started to massage shampoo into her scalp, letting her brain idle over the events of the day. It was a lot to take in, her sudden change in circumstances. New quarters, new crew, a challenging (if puzzling) new project to work on.

An equally puzzling new boss, and her confusing response to him.

Huffing at that line of thought, she adjusted the water to be slightly warmer. She rinsed her hair and added conditioner, running her fingers through the knots impatiently. That really wasn’t a road she needed to go down, it didn’t matter how pretty his eyes were.

Sighing, she deliberately steered her mind elsewhere. She finished the rest of her shower on auto-pilot, soaping up and washing her face while thinking over her plan of attack for the next day.

Feeling more relaxed than she had in long time, she stepped out of the stall and toweled off. She didn’t have the energy to do anything other than let her hair air dry. She put on a little lotion to help combat the dry skin Lark brought out in everyone, and then dressed in the softest sweatpants and t-shirt she owned, topping off the outfit with fluffy socks and a ratty pair of slippers.

She wished she had stuck around at dinner for another bowl of soup, or at least one of those oversized rolls - maybe there were some left in the galley? Surely a late night snack was one of the perks of being a crewmember.

She checked her tablet, and sure enough Laurel had given her access to the ship’s systems, including a basic map of the facilities on board, meaning that she could find her way to the mess on her own. It was obviously fate.

Tucking her tablet under her arm and throwing her damp hair over one shoulder, she activated the panel next to the doors to her room and peaked out. It was late enough that she didn’t think she’d encounter anyone in the corridors, but she didn’t really know anyone’s schedule and she wasn’t keen on meeting anyone in her loungewear.

She stepped out and consulted the map on her tablet, and managed to find the mess with only a few wrong turns. She was still distracted by her tablet when she went through the hatch, which is why she didn’t see Oliver sitting at the opposite end of the table in the mostly darkened room.

"Hi,” he said, sounding surprised, which startled a loud ‘eep’ out of her as she backed instinctively into the side of the hatch, clutching her tablet against her chest.

Oliver half-rose out of his seat. “Sorry-”

“Geez, why are you lurking there?” She said sharply, without thought.

He looked almost offended at that as he sat back down. “I’m not _lurking_ , I was here first,” and then he suddenly looked amused. “Also, it’s my ship.”

She blew out a breath, embarrassed. “Right.” She straightened up, trying to regain some dignity - it wasn’t easy. “I was just looking for something to eat before I turned in.”

And there she stood awkwardly, overly aware of her appearance and unsure of how to move forward, even though the galley was right in front of her. Should she just go back to her room?

While she wrestled with indecision, Oliver looked as though he was waiting for something. He nodded at the galley door. “We have some leftover dinner if you’re interested. Or there’s this.”

He gestured down at the plate sitting to the side of a tablet he’d probably been reading before she came in. The plate had some sort of half-eaten cake strewn across it, with fruit topping spilling off. She stepped forward eagerly. “Are those _peaches_?”

He grinned at her enthusiasm, and it transformed his entire face, made him seem younger and lighter. She caught her breath. “Thea has a sweet tooth.”

“Mm, Thea, sure,” she returned humorously, unable to help herself. And then she mentally kicked herself, because she barely knew this man. They hadn’t earned this familiarity, and, really, it was a bad idea anyway.

But he didn’t appear bothered. “I’ll get you some,” he offered unexpectedly.

“No, you really don’t need to, I can-”

“It’s fine. Sit,” he told her, and then he disappeared into the galley. So she did, a few seats down from him, somewhat disgruntled. She really needed to stop letting her shipmates bully her into eating things.

When he came back, it was with a large piece of cake and a glass of milk. She thanked him, and he settled into his chair to read something on his tablet in silence while she ate.

She decided she was glad he’d insisted on the dessert, because the peaches ( _real_ ones) were tangy and sweet, the vanilla cake was so moist, and god, taking this job was the best decision she’d ever made just for the _food_.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Oliver shift in his seat and his eyebrows shoot up, but he didn’t raise his head. She thought that was odd until she realized she must have been moaning with pleasure after every bite.

 _Ugh. Because things weren’t awkward enough_ , she thought.

Eating the last piece of cake (quietly this time), she considered and then dismissed the idea of licking the plate clean. That would just be weird.

“So,” she said, trying to break the discomfort of the moment, “tomorrow I thought I’d tackle the engine room.”

He looked up and nodded, leaning his considerably muscular frame back. Not that she noticed.

“We’re most concerned about the starboard engine. It took the most damage before we landed.”

“When you were running away from the pirates,” she finished for him.

“Right,” said, immediately and without hesitation, but it was his innocent look that made something in the back of her mind tingle.

Felicity pursed her lips and tilted her head at him, wondering whether she should ask him more questions about the incident, just to see what he would say.

“You’ll also need to take a look at the gravity generator at some point, it’s been malfunctioning. But the engines are the priority,” he added, ignoring the interest he must have seen on her face.

Was he trying to distract her, or just directing her to his priorities, like a good captain should? She wasn’t certain, and surely nothing good would come out of her prying.

 _That’s never stopped you before_ , a little voice said.

“Got it,” she replied, disregarding the voice for the moment and making notes on her tablet.

Quiet reigned again, so she took the opportunity to swallow the last of her milk. When she stood with her dishes, he stood with her.

“I should really call it a night. Long day tomorrow,” she said, looking toward the mess hatch.

“Of course,” Oliver indicated the dishes. “You can leave those, I’ll take care of them.”

“Okay.” She set the dishes onto the table uncertainly, grabbing her tablet instead. It was an odd thing, imagining the former playboy washing her dishes.

She really had no idea what to make of him.

She moved away from the table and toward the door. “Well, goodnight, I guess.”

“Goodnight Felicity,” she heard him say softly from his place on the other side of the room, just as she made it to the door. “Sleep well.”

No, she thought, feeling even more confused as she stepped through into the corridor, she wasn’t at all certain she would.


End file.
